The Nearness Of You
by lontanissima
Summary: "I rolled over and you weren't there" - Andy Flynn. Add on to White Lies Part 2.


_This story it's an add on to "White Lies Part 2"._

 _To be honest, I feel rather silly posting this now after such a long time has passed since "White Lies Part 2". I did try to let it go, not to mention after the finale my muse practically ran away, probably to get drunk somewhere and cry all the tears because of Flynn. But then the scene kept coming back to me and I couldn't forget Andy's words and his reason for waking up in the middle of the night. Simply, she wasn't near him. That did it, and since this story is here, you can blame a few very good friends of mine that keep enabling me._

 _Many thanks goes to my beta_ **OldFashinedGrl**. _Just don't forget that_ _all mistakes are mine but not the characters with those I only play._

 _The beautiful cover is made by absolutely talented_ _ **Elena**_ _. I am forever grateful for it._

 _I hope you will enjoy it, regardless of the timing itself._

* * *

"... It's not the pale moon that excites me

That thrills and delights me

Oh no, it's just the nearness of you..."

 **MCMCMCMCMCMC**

"The Nearness Of You"

It wasn't often that Andy Flynn woke up in the middle of the night. The result of long days, never ending nights and his aging body had granted him an imperturbable deep sleep. During all the years on the job, he had learned the importance of the rest itself and now his body was able to fall asleep in any position, at any moment of the day, and even less than five minutes after his head touched the softness of the pillow. In his sleep he would move and turn a little, maybe even snore, but there wasn't any evidence of that shown to him, even so he would blame it on the fatigue, which some days was simply too great.

However, as of late his sleeping habits had changed.

For one, he wasn't sleeping alone. His big, cold, lonely bed had been long forgotten and never really missed. Every night now there was a lovely, feminine form that lay next to him. Her warmth drew him into their own intimate harbor away from the cruelty, creating their new normality. His old bones would melt into that comfortable mattress of hers, finding peace between the sophisticated bed sheets of her choosing. Her fragrance, so sensual and unique, was better than any sleeping pill or drug available to human kind. Her mere presence plainly soothing away his troubled thoughts, right before obliviousness would claim him. Absolute, undeniable harmony.

Only it hadn't been that easy at first.

This whole quandary of getting used to sharing a bed with someone at this stage of life turned out to be a true challenge. He sensed she had been overwhelmed the first few times it'd happened. Maybe because they didn't actually _sleep_ during the night, not really, or maybe because she, just like him, was stubborn in breaking old habits; they do say those habits die hard. He had worried that this little predicament would once again only slow them down on the path of their fragile, almost crystalline like relationship, but he had been determined not to let that happen.

Attempt after attempt, night after night, they navigated this new side of their bond, enjoying the ins and outs of sharing one tiny space. He had gotten used to her frozen toes sliding along his calves and shins just like minute ice cubes slipping over his overheated skin, creating goose bumps all over his body. He had even stopped minding waking up with a mouth full of her hair, smothering him right on his pillow, obstructing his breathing, or that she liked to sleep under a heavy quilt, while his body would only boil underneath it. It really didn't matter. He would take it all, just to be near her.

He had discovered wonderful things about her in the intimacy of their shared bedroom. He was mesmerized by the whole process of her nightly routines, observing her while pretending to be reading or just resting his eyes in the bedside light: how she hung up her clothes from the day and decided on the ones she would wear in the morning, how she meticulously applied night cream and then got flustered while struggling to screw the lid back on with slippery fingers, how it appeared she had an essential need to read right before bed, no matter how tired she was or what kind of text she would settle on, sometimes a poem, an article found on her phone, or a single page of the book that lay on her nightstand. He suspected she didn't read at all, but in those moments in her mind she declaimed her nightly prayers.

Sharon preferred to sleep on her right side, facing the window, away from the main door. With her leg slightly curled and her back to him. Andy didn't mind that at all. He, on the other hand, liked to be on his back for the first part of the night, feeling his posture adhere to the comfy surface. He fully understood her need for some space between them, to be comfortable and to prevent them from feeling overcrowded. Sleeping beside a loved one wasn't about that. Although, at some point during the night, she would turn, bump her knees into his thighs, and cuddle closer till she found a new, satisfying position, usually with her head on his shoulder, breathing calmly and tickling his neck. His arm would gather her closer against him while her fingers closed around the material of his pajama shirt.

He also relished those moments where she hummed in pleasure following the ultimate climax with her head back against the pillow and the most serene smile on her face, her lips slightly parted. He took pride in those instances, when their perpetual motion would guide them towards a much anticipated peak, and then let them fall over the precipice and drown them into a heavenly lethargic state. He cherished every second of this spectacular manifestation of undeniable lust and affection, watching her in a satisfied and peaceful state.

By now he was used to having her beside him, sharing the bed, the covers, the close, intimate space. She had become his second skin, an invisible veil that enveloped him almost trapping him in the endless need of her. Her every move, every breath, every silent moment made him actually aware of his own feelings towards her.

And so that night while he was rolling over onto his side, he immediately knew something was odd. A chilly shudder ran down his spine and jostled him out of his comatose state. He sighed quietly into the pillow, clearly fighting with his mind to stay asleep as long as he could, feeling like they had gone to bed just minutes ago, although his body wasn't letting him drift off again. His subconscious was aware there was a piece of him missing — the simple yet so essential nearness of her.

When another jolt shook him, his hand reached slowly to her side of the bed noting that it was indeed vacant. His fingers caressed the pillow where the imprint of her form was still noticeable, but any heat from her body had faded into the cool darkness of the room. His palm skimmed along the rumpled sheets she had left behind, the soothing sensation waking him up bit by bit. He shifted a little burying his nose against the soft fabric, inhaling deeply the lingering scent of her.

It felt like home, every single time.

Slowly he opened his eyes. The room was dark and from the murky view through the window he could detect that it must be the middle of the night. He reached over to her nightstand grabbing her phone and checking the time; just after one in the morning. He wondered if she had actually fallen asleep at all.

With some effort he pushed himself up onto his elbows, his torso rising slowly from the bed, his back protesting the movement. It stung a smidge. Since his dustup last year, his body hadn't been reacting in the same way anymore. During the day he could still run, jump, even fight if necessary without many problems, it was part of the job, but the effort from it wasn't forgiving. Unfortunately his back had gotten the worst of it. Adding his age to that, sometimes he felt like retirement was right around the corner. But now, he had bigger problems than musing on his future. Sharon's absence was bothering him and without her, there was no way he would rest anytime soon.

Moving the covers aside he rose slowly, his feet landing onto the plush carpet on the floor, his big toes instinctively curled into the fabric while he blinked a few times allowing his eyes to get accustomed to the unlighted room. Carefully he searched for his pajama top. It usually lay on the chair of her vanity. Almost every night, he passed by it on his way from the bathroom to the bed and took it off, knowing it would be too hot to sleep in. Also, in full disclosure, there was something about Sharon's fingers playing with the short hair of his chest, drawing indecipherable patterns on his skin that he couldn't imagine going a night without.

Turning his head, he spotted it right between the discarded pillows neatly placed on the bench at the foot of the bed. He retrieved it. Best to put it on in case the kid might be around. Rusty didn't appreciate seeing him half naked and Andy understood and shared the sentiment perfectly.

The atmosphere between the two men was finally settling. The kid was coming around to the idea of all of them living together in a new place. Essentially, Andy already lived with Sharon and Rusty, but at least now whenever they talked about house hunting, Rusty participated in the discussion and didn't retreat to his room, pretending it wouldn't affect him. It was a welcome change. It calmed Sharon visibly and it was so much easier when all of them were on the same page. Small joys of the little family they were trying to create. They all had to make an effort in order to make it work.

Easing himself from their bedroom, he very gently closed the door behind him. After taking a few steps, Andy stopped in the hallway right in front of Rusty's room. The door was open and from the sight of the untouched bed, he suspected the kid would be spending the night out with Gus. He was sure Sharon knew all about it, she was quite a mother hen when it came to knowing where the kid was and such.

The soft lightning from the living room caught his attention. Slowly he approached the room. Its stillness and its silence paradoxically calling him to her.

He hopped that with some coaxing he would be able to persuade her back to bed.

It disturbed him to know that she could lay awake beside him without him knowing it, musing over recent events, her mind running around in circles, driving herself nuts over a damn dirtbag and losing precious rest over it. He didn't like the sensation of feeling so helpless, of not being able to provide her the precious moments of peace and tranquility she above all people had earned. Perhaps she still felt guilty. He didn't fully understand it. He had tried. He was there for her and would be there for her for as long as he could help it. for as long as she would let him.

Just as he suspected, she was sitting alone in the orange chair, gazing into the empty room. He called her name softly, so as not to startle her from her own thoughts. He smiled when he noticed that his hunch was right — she hadn't stayed in bed at all. She must have snuck out the second he fell asleep. In fact she looked immaculate, not a hair out of place, not any noticeable wrinkle on her robe, she was the perfect vision of his beautiful sleepless woman.

The touch of her hand made him slightly worried. Her skin was cold between his fingers, underneath his lips. He hopped that the ceaseless movement of his thumb over her palm would warm it up, even if only a little.

Their concerns for each other were voiced in gentle hushes, barely above a whisper. Something about the way they talked brought them closer; breaching any distance that the events of last few days might have created. And yet, he was right again. She was deeply bothered by the case. Questioning it all to find solution in the dark hour. Imagining scenarios where a _heavy_ would fit in. Hoping he would just reveal himself before her.

"Sharon," he spoke her name once more trying to gain her attention, not letting her be taken by the case.

Her head turned toward him, she took his hand again and squeezed it lightly to reassure him. Her face was flushed. The energy with which she had spoken just now left her breathless and suddenly heated. It seemed that the flashes of images in her mind overwhelmed her, but damn, it was good to be able say out loud what had been in her head for hours and hours.

Their eyes locked as the silence surrounded them. What she saw in his clear, amber orbs was a hint of concern. She knew he was worried for her. The past few days had been difficult on her and her turmoil affected him as well, made him more watchful of her, more present. As much as he tried to give her space to work out her own her troubles, she saw it all in his very expressive eyes. She also felt it through his persistent touches, his ever so tight embraces, his endless soothing kisses.

In this dim light, his gaze was soft, almost like liquid honey, calming her and blanketing her in a warm feeling. Her face lit up with a bright smile, just for him to whiteness.

"Yes," she answered after a moment, just when she felt her heart beat slowing down, surprised by the intensity of her previously spoken words.

"Dear, you know we won't solve this murder, tonight here in your living room," he said grasping the armrest of the chair while he readjusted his position on the floor, alleviating a cramp that gripped his leg.

"Yes, I'm aware, but Andy, this is not a regular murder. This is a conspiracy and it killed one of our friends. I just," she paused, and her gaze drifted out the window anew, "I just have a hard time making sense of it. I really, really _need_ to solve it." There was a clue of desperation in the way she said it.

"I get it. I do. I feel the same, and we will figure it all out, but you also need sleep." He tried to move again and this time the quick twinge in his back made him grimace.

She saw the pain spreading across his face and instinctively her hand landed on his cheek providing a soothing caress.

"You alright down there?" she teased, knowingly that in this position he must have been suffering for quite some time.

"Perfect," he lied and she only rolled her eyes at him, glaring from the rim of her glasses.

"Andy," she tried again, slowly with a bit of warning in her tone. Her silly man could be so stubborn at times, if only not to damage his male pride in front of her.

"Fine, but perhaps..." his hands grabbed the back of the chair and his body rose gradually from the floor. His knees made a popping sound to which he only shook his head. Before settling himself on the couch, he stretched the stiffness of his muscles. When finally his back touched the softness of the pillows, a delighted groan left his lips. "Come on," he urged her to sit near him, extending his hand toward her.

"I'm perfectly comfortable here. You are impossible," she shook her head not making any sign of moving from her position.

"Mhm, and you like it," his fingers flexed in a way to hurry her along. After all they didn't have the whole night for it now. "Come on," he repeated more urgently.

"Maybe..."

"Sharon," he did as much as pout at her.

She giggled at the insistent sound of her name and his childish expression. She gave in and quickly rose from the chair and took a step closer to him. When it seemed she would sit only next to him, he gripped her hips and guided her onto his lap. She squealed at the force with which he brought her down.

There was something heart lifting in the sentiment of his gesture, at being able to laugh even if only for a short moment after so much sorrow, at being able to snuggle on the couch in the late hour, like pair of carefree young kids. Although, to be fair, they weren't old in the slightest, the evidence of their animalistic exuberance was sealed between their bedroom walls.

With grace she redistributed her weight on his lap, making herself comfy, resting her back on the pillows and her forehead on his jaw.

"Better?" she asked kissing his cheek lightly.

"Much." He wound a hand around her waist and brought her even closer to his body. Having her like this was simply glorious.

She shifted and her head moved to his shoulder, sinking into his comfortable embrace. Her hand traveled to his torso, lightly caressing the uncovered skin at his collar, toying with the chain he never took off. In that very moment she was content just to be. It was wonderful to feel her mind slowing down, and let the warmth from his body and the care from his hands take over her.

"Does it still bother you?" She asked after a moment of silence; she worried for him as well.

"What?"

At his mumbled response she rose up away from his body, his crooked grin widening at her heated glare. "Sweetheart, I don't know what you are talking about." He stated matter-of-factly and shrugged in the process bouncing her a little on his knees. Her hand instinctively gripped the collar of his pajama shirt. He didn't want to talk about his health, not when they were both trying to relax, not when he finally had her so delightfully in his arms.

"I'm sure you don't." Shaking her head she was about to return to her previous secure position but he steeled her. Gently with two fingers he touched her chin and turned her head toward him. He gazed meaningfully into her glistering eyes, and at the sign of a small smile on her lips, with practiced ease he caught the frame of her glasses between his fingers and slowly, very carefully took them off her face. He always liked doing it whenever the occasion presented itself, and she had never objected.

With the glasses placed safely on the side table, their breathing heaved, her teeth bit at the corner of her lip, just the way that always drove him mad. His fingers bunched the soft cashmere of her robe in his palm, sliding up the material in a tickling motion. Her breath caught at the sensation, as she tried to keep perfectly still in his lap, not giving in to his ministrations, not to give him the satisfaction. Just when the movement of his hand intensified and she couldn't control her body any longer, couldn't keep from squirming atop his lap, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers so quickly it knocked all the air out of her, making her moan into his mouth, like she hadn't been kissed for an eternity.

Andy took pride in that, easing his misbehaving hand onto her back to support her weight as her body arched at his touch, the soft weight of her breast pressing into his torso. His hands opened wider, his palms moved over her, taking in every ounce of her form and warmth. He felt her body push even closer to his, one arm sliding along his back to hold onto him more firmly and the other slipping to his shoulder, her hand at the side of his neck, fingers combing roughly through his hair.

They were entrapped in this impenetrable cage of closeness. But it was so very wonderful to be held in this way, every passing second of it, to feel her sweet, hot mouth on his, to have his tongue pressing against hers, to hear the persistent hum of pleasure that escaped her from time to time. They could kiss for an eternity and always seek more.

After a while of this blissful action her head felt dizzy from the lack of air and her body was melting with too much ease into his, in fact, she was melting for him inside and out for longer than she could remember. Mindful that they were still in the living room on the couch, with a high possibility of being caught by her son sneaking in late, she pressed a hand to his torso and pushed against him, bringing their kiss to a halt with a soft press of her lips against his.

Andy drew a tight breath and rested his forehead against hers merely savoring the nearness of her.

When finally his breathing eased to normal, he pushed aside a lock of her hair and whispered hotly in her ear, "You are precious," while kissing the supple skin of her neck. His fingers moved through her hair, massaging the back of her head, as his lips nipped at her earlobe. When she moaned, the sound ran down his spine directly to his very core.

She slipped her hand to his chest again, resting her palm over his beating life."You are distracting," she stated a bit breathless but with incontestable affection.

"So it worked?" he suddenly pulled away from her and asked very seriously looking straight into her eyes.

"Perhaps..." She took her time and thought about it. In her mind there were no crime scene images, no hunted names, no unanswered questions. There was only the memory of his lips on hers, of his demanding hands heating up her body, his loving, kind eyes that were always watching after her. Smiling warmly at him, she let him know the answer.

"Good, are you ready to get back to bed?"

"Not just yet, Andy. Not just yet." She leaned forwarded and kissed him hungrily, her lips exigent, needing more and more because once was never enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

He tightened his hold around her, when he felt her mouth slide across his jaw. Her lips left sweet love bites on his neck just the way he liked it, as she knew perfectly well. More and more kisses followed, just to prolong the state of this rapture. There was something about his kisses that made it impossible for her to leave without another.

When she finally stilled and rested her head in the crook of his neck sighing contently, he was more than happy to simply hold her, listening to their gentle breathing, and passing his fingers through her hair in a calming motion. And later, when she would finally be ready to go back to their bed, he would carry her there, bad back be damn.

But for now, for now, he would simply enjoy the nearness of her.

* * *

 _Thank you._

 _Happy Shandy Sunday!_


End file.
